


A Gypsy and his Captain

by My_OTP_will_kill_me (orphan_account)



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: AU No Arkenstone, AU No one ring of power, Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Hunchback of Notre Dame, Angst, Bilbo gets kidnapped, Bilbo is a gypsy, Creepy parts!, Dark Past, F/M, Fluff, Humor, M/M, Mainly focuses on gypsies, Protective Thorin, Thorin's in love, Younger Bilbo, a LOT is from Hunchback of Notre Dame, in a way...
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-12
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-07 06:16:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3164372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/My_OTP_will_kill_me
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin has always loved the market, and while strolling around with Dwalin, comes upon a large crowd gathered around the town square. Thorin and Dwalin go investigate the goings on, and see four gypsies. A flute player, a fiddler, a drummer, and the most spectacular dancer Thorin had ever seen.</p><p>Little did Thorin know, that dancing with the gypsy would lead to his demotion, his banishment, an uprising in the mountain, and the marriage of a gypsy and his captain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Flaming Red Hair

Thorin could remember how his father had started to change. He was at a young age and they had added a new ambassador after his grandfather had died. He remembered how his father had began to be less and less aware of his surroundings, and had started to let things slip by right under his nose without a word, when Thorin would have bet his life that his father would have been screaming his head off in protest.

His father began to look far older, and decrepit for someone of his age, though Thorin did agree, his father was old, just not that old. Thraín was slowly eating less, refusing to move from his throne for anything. Even when Dis had cried at his feet, begging him to have one meal with them, the king had sat there in silence, unmoving, as if she wasn’t even there.

Those were the more depressing things he remembered of his father while growing up, but Thorin could also recall a few sensible things that his father had said and done while still in his younger years and when he got older.

Once had been when he had made Thorin the Captain of the Guard for both of Erebor’s armies, allowing him to have Dwalin, his best friend, and Frerin, his younger brother, as first and second lieutenants. The three of them were so close in age, and intelligence (though his younger brother would disagree, and Thorin would agree with his brother, for his intelligence was far more superior than Dwalin’s or Frerin’s, but Thorin was not one to brag), that a brotherly love had grown between the trio, and they had worked together to interrogate the fourth member of their gang, when Víli had asked Dis to marry him. That night had ended in merriment, and the next day had started with a terrible hangover, and the beginnings of a wedding to plan.

The second sensible thing had been when he had announced Dis’ and Víli’s wedding, and then the birth of their first born two years later, followed by the announcement of their second born five years after that.

The third sensible thing had been 87 years after Thorin had been named Captain, and his friends and family had grown to become well behaved dwarrows….at least, some of them had. Thorin still had his doubts about Frerin. In those 87 years, his father had changed even more, allowing his ambassador to make the decisions for Erebor by himself, and backed the ambassador up whenever he was questioned. But, even in that madness, his father declared that Erebor would help accompany the Iron Hills, the Grey Mountains, and other dwarven kingdoms, in an attempt to restore Moria. In two months time, they were leaving Erebor, ready for the three month trip it would take them to get to Moria with so many soldiers.

His men and women were trained soldiers, prepared to help and assist to their best of their abilities, and Thorin couldn’t be prouder. They had gotten mere miles away from Moria, when a raven from Erebor, flew above them, crying out his name.

 

“ _Thorin! Thorin_!”

 

Thorin had listened to the relayed message of the raven, and had no choice in his next moves of having to return to the mountain. After all, he could not disobey the King’s orders when he demanded the return of the Captain only, and immediately at that.

Before he could tell the others of his father’s wishes, his younger sister-now the shieldmaiden of Erebor- was smacking two of his soldiers in the head, grabbing their ears and practically lifting them off the ground in her anger. His shock was replaced with slight annoyance when the soldiers father intervened….well tried to intervene, but Dis shot a murderous look at her husband, and he backed down as quickly as he had tried to stop the probable death of his sons, leaving Fíli and Kíli to deal with the wrath of their mother alone.

Thorin wasn’t at all surprised when he had to bring his nephews home, and he was loath to see Dwalin leave the battle before even getting there, even if the dwarf insisted on staying by his side.

Frerin was more than willing to lead the troops onward to the Mountains, but had tried to make Thorin bring a few back home if there was such a dire need for the Captain to leave them on the brink of battle. Thorin refused, and ordered all to stick to the plan until word from him said otherwise. He was already robbing his army of their captain and first lieutenant, he would not take more from them.

He pulled aside his family and made all three of his younger siblings promise to watch out for one another. Thorin knew he could count on Frerin to watch out for Dis and Víli, and knew that Dis would be watching out for her husband and brother, and also that Víli would look out for Dis and Frerin; but he neaded to hear them say it.

 

===================================================================================================

 

“Are we at Mirkwood yet?” Kíli whined, throwing his head back with a groan. Dwalin scowled at the boy, while Fíli grinned at his brothers complaints. The four were on ponies, trotting at a swift pace that would allow them to make it back to Erebor quickly enough. They had left as soon as they sat down on their saddles, which had not even been a full hour ago.

 

“Do ye have a beard yet?” Dwalin shot back, making the young boy sit up in his saddle on the pony, glaring at the back of the older dwarf.

 

“Almost,” Kíli defended, rubbing at the little stubble that had begun to grow on the young kids face.

 

“Well, we’re almost there.” Kíli slouched back on his seat, pouting when his older reached out to pat his thigh sympathetically. Thorin shook his head with a fond smile for his nephews, turning his head over his shoulder to catch Kíli’s eye.

 

“Why are you in such a hurry to get back to Mirkwood, inùdoynamadaz?” Kíli blushed a deep scarlet red, and Thorin rose his eyebrow as his nephew began to squirm in unease, no doubt searching his mind for an excuse.

 

“I-erm….that is to say-I….”

 

“He lost his hairclip,” Fíli explained, his voice steady and convincible that Kíli agreed with him instantly. At a quick glance, Thorin noticed how Kíli’s hair-which was normally pulled back and clipped to the back with a small clip his mother had made for him- was indeed loose, and flowing. There was an understanding silence amongst them, as both Dwalin and Thorin knew how happy Dis would be to find out her son had lost her hair clip.

“In someone’s hair.” Thorin heard the not so soft punch Kíli landed on Fíli’s arm, and the sniggers of his older nephew. Thorin was a little startled at the news. Placing something of importance into someone’s hair (like a bead, or clip) usually showed an interest from both the giver and acceptor, and led to a courtship. Dwalin turned around to face the youngest Durin with a feral grin.

 

“Nice goin’ laddie! Now,” he sniffed turning back to face the front. “How drunk did you have to get ‘em?” Fíli’s loud guffaws drowned out Kíli’s huffs of irritation. Even Thorin was hard pressed not to chuckle at his nephews now obvious crush on this mystery maiden or fellow.

 

“I didn’t get them drunk! They were fully aware of what was happening, and had consented before I put it in!”

 

“I didn’t know you got that far with him, Kíli,” Fíli admitted, before bolting in between Thorin and Dwalin’s ponies, Kíli hot on his tail.

 

“Get back here, you son of an Orc!”

 

“I’m tellin’ mama you called her that!”

 

“Fíli!”

 

Thorin was happy to say that they made it to the mountain faster than he expected.

 

===================================================================================================

 

Thorin could leave Erebor for a day just to simply go to Dale, and he would always return to the mountain in reverent awe at the work of his ancestors. The large gates that were swung open for any and all to enter was a warming site to see.

The guards above him stood at attention, hailing their king and saluting their Captain as he walked through the gates. The small company passed their steeds off to the stable boy, grateful to be walking on their own two feet.

They had made it back to the mountain in a month, stopping a little longer in certain places for both political and personal reasons.

Once, was in Mirkwood, where Thorin found out who Kíli’s crush was when the elven prince happened to walk by him with an awkward wave that Thorin was too stunned to return. There was a lot of teasing to the younger dwarf, but he took it with a grain of salt when he knew the others were okay with it. Thorin had even gone as far to say that he would give the dwarf his blessing if it ever came to it, though the young dwarf didn’t need it. Thorin understood Kíil’s hesitation in telling anyone. It wasn’t unheard of for a dwarf to mix with someone outside of their race, but it was highly unheard of to do so with an elf. Kíli had been grateful nonetheless when he had heard his words, and hugged Thorin tightly.

There next stop was just a small detour to Dale, checking to make sure that they had not received any threats or reasons to worry. When Bard had told Thorin that there was peace through out his kingdom, Thorin was even more confused about him being called out of the war.

 

“The Captain is needed at once, by the King. It is of the utmost importance that you return to the mountain, immediately.” The raven’s message played in his mind over and over again. He still didn’t understand why he was being called.

 

“Thorin,” Dwalin called. Thorin turned to face his friend, smiling when Dwalin smacked Fíli in the head when he had tried to trip the older dwarf as he walked, thinking he could get away with sneaking his boot in front of Dwalin’s shoes. Dwalin had removed his breast plate, bending down to take off what little armour he had on left. He left his chainmail on underneath the plain green tunic he slipped over it, conceiling his status and position. “Let’s do a round, make sure there’s no trouble nearby.” Thorin nodded, handing the guard his own golden breastplate, and slipping the dark blue tunic on over his chainmail for his undercover rounds about the mountain. His nephews were doing the same, donning a red and purple tunic. Thorin nodded in thanks to the guards, pulling his hair back into a pony tail, and asked one of the nearest guards to tell his father that he had arrived, and was on his way. The guard ran off down a corridor used only by the royals and guards.

The four of them set off down the long, mostly empty corridors of Erebor's high rent district. The hallways held the upper class dwarrows, and hardly any of them gave the four a second glance as they walked by, sticking their noses higher in the air. Thorin didn’t mind, having learned to just deal with it at a young age. These corridors were the part of their rounds that seemed to drag on for hours, and Thorin hated this part most.

As they travelled further into the mountain, going down the long staircases, Thorin could feel it before they were half way there.

Thorin heard their shouts and curses, boisterous singing or laughing that reverberated against the mountain walls. He could hear the lively music that played on the corners of the streets, and could picture the town square where gypsies were known to dance for coin. He could smell the aroma of freshly baked goods, and roasted meet at vendor's stalls, along with the pleasant smells of fresh flowers and herbs.

Behind him he could feel the buzz of adrenaline from his nephews and friend, and knew they were of the same mind. Thorin glanced over his shoulder at the three, flashed them a quick smile, then jumped the last six steps. Thorin may have had his 175th birthday a few months ago, but he could still outrun his nephews and best friend.

The others chased after him, turning the corner of the landing, and flew down one last staircase, and then they were there. Thorin’s favorite place.

The market was the center of the mountain, and, like always, was filled with dwarves, men, and the occasional cluster of elves. Dogs and children ran around, free of cares and worries, with big smiles on their faces. Men and women bickered about prices, shouted to one another from the apartments above the market, or talked about the new gossip of the mountain.

Carts filled with all sorts of delicacies were pushed around the streets, trying to sell their food to everyone they passed. All the stalls were open, each vendor trying to out shout their neighbor in catching shoppers attention.

Thorin felt the small smile on his lips before he could stop it. He loved the market. Ever since he could walk, he had traveled to the point-a balcony that the King and his family could go to great the ‘commoners’, or so his grandfather had put it. But Thorin had never seen the people in the markets as commoners, or people lesser than him. These people were amazing in his eyes. Always seeming to be in a hurry, never staying in one place unless they were talking to someone, but even then, they seemed to still move through the stalls.

 

Thorin’s favorite people in the markets weren’t the people in really nice clothes, or the ones that looked most normal. His favorites were the gypsies. You could almost definitely pick out a gypsy stall, by their colorful and bright fabrics that they surrounded themselves in. The gypsies themselves wore whatever they wanted or could find, not giving a damn if they would be considered weird or out of style. Thorin admired that.

But to Thorin’s bewilderment, he couldn’t find a single one. Almost all the gypsies that normally occupied certain corners or stalls were gone, along with a lot of the homeless that would roam the streets. That worried Thorin about the absences, and he could picture his grandfather’s disapproval at his thoughts.

His grandfather had always warned him about the gypsies when they had started to come to the mountain, telling Thorin that a gypsy was a thief and could do only evil. Thorin had never agreed with him. He would watch the gypsies as they danced or helped the others around them, and couldn’t see what his grandfather saw, though he wouldn’t admit that he didn’t try very hard to see things in his grandfathers ways. Thorin brushed off the disappearances, deciding to ask around later. The gypsies were known to sometimes disappear for a day to gather and have meetings in their secret hideout.

 

So, even though most members of the high class thought the market to be a place of lowlifes that smelled bad and was disgusting, and should be no place for a proper member of the royal family, Thorin loved everything about the market.

Sharing a smile with his nephews and friend, they wandered in. Fíli and Kíli, having seen something or someone, ran off in a different direction, leaving Dwalin and Thorin to wonder around the market, buying a few sweets here and there.

 

Even though the Captain and Lieutenant were on duty, and had to complete their round, they still made it to every one of their favorite stalls along the way. They stopped at the best bake stall in all of the mountain. The owner was a red haired dwarf, by the name of Bombur, and his wife was expecting their fifth child. Thorin dropped a few more pieces of gold in the tip jar, thanking the dwarf for his swirly roll of cinnamon, icy heaven.

Dwalin came up next to him after dropping a few coins into a homeless ladies hands, and they made their way towards the center of town where they could hear music playing and people clapping. He was biting on a large barbequed boar’s leg, making very loud gnawing noises. Thorin gave his friend a look as he continued to work his mouth around the leg, looking like a wild animal, his noises catching the awkward attention of a few people.

 

“Dwalin,” Thorin called, getting the dwarfs attention. Dwalin glanced over at him, the infernal noises he was making stopping when he lowered his meat leg. “Stop.” Dwalin scowled at him, pointing at his half eaten dessert with his meat.

 

“How ‘bout you shut up, and eat yer cinnamon swirly, or whatever ye call it.” Thorin ignored Dwalin’s words, rolling his eyes when Dwalin continued to eat his meat leg and began making the noises louder than before. Thorin knew he was doing it out of spite.

The crowd ahead of them cheered, and people were throwing coins or flowers at who ever was dancing. Thorin glanced over at Dwalin, raising his eyebrow questioningly. Dwalin heaved an irritated sigh, before giving a small reluctant nod. Thorin ran towards the crowd, dragging Dwalin with him.

 

They made it to the crowd that was still applauding the performer. Thorin and Dwalin jumped up onto a ledge of the small stone wall that outlined the town square at the far back of the crowd. Grateful for his height, Thorin was able to see what all the fuss was about over the many heads. Thorin even noticed a few men and elves amongst them, standing in the back since they could still see.

In the center of the square was a fountain that was a replica of the mountain itself. The fountain’s small wall that surrounded it was diamond shaped, angling out at the sides. Right at the fountain, were four gypsies.

There was a flutist who sat on the edge of the fountain, giving low bows to the crowd as they continued to clap. The man had a thick mustache that ended with two braids on either side, and he wore a big hat above his head that went along with his striped brown and green pants, and faded red tunic. Everything on him looked like he had found it, except for the boots and hat, that looked the best out of his attire.

There was another person behind him, with strange hair that was braided into three points atop his head. He had on a dark and bulky coat, that Thorin would have thought it hard to play the fiddle in. His back was to him, so Thorin could not see his face.

The third sat with his back to the point of the fountain wall, a drum in his hand. He wore an orange tunic, with brown pants, and had boots that matched the flutist’s. Thorin could tell that the three musicians were dwarves, but the fourth one was different.

Standing next to the sitting flute player, was another being who was barely a few inches taller than the tip of the flutist tall hat, and Thorin thought maybe a small gypsy child.

The child wore a white billowy shirt that seemed much too large under a teal vest, with thin, diagonal, gold stripes. His shirt and vest were tucked into his baggy purple pants, and he had a dark purple wrap around his waist. The child wore no shoes, which didn’t surprise Thorin since most of the homeless or gypsies could not afford any; but his feet had massive amounts of hair on them that matched the golden locks on his head which were pulled back by a thin, purple band around his head. The child wore a single golden bracelet around his ankle and both his wrists, and Thorin could see the glimmer of a gold hoop in one of his ears.

The three dwarves seemed to be listening to the child who stood in front of them. All of them gave a nod, and the child turned, and-

Thorin’s breath was taken from him at the face of the creature, who wasn’t a child at all, but a halfling. He had heard of halflings, and that sometimes they traveled all the way to places close to where they resided, but Thorin had never heard of one in his mountain.

The halfling’s face was flawless, and Thorin had never liked a beardless face before, but he was enjoying this face a lot. He had the look of a dwarf who had barely come of age, with slight crinkles by his eyes from smiles and laughter. Oh, but that smile. Thorin had never seen such a brilliant smile on someone. He looked to have perfect, white teeth, that fit his beautiful tan face. His eyes were brighter than any emerald in his father’s treasury. He was small, and lean from most likely malnutrition-a common thing with gypsies and homeless. But Thorin could see the strong muscle beneath the billowing white shirt. The halfling wiped the sweat of his brow, and Thorin saw another drop trickle down the side of his face and itched to wipe it off.

The four gypsies smiled at the still cheering crowd, but Thorin only had eyes on the brilliant smile of the halfling gypsy. The gypsy held his hands in the air, hushing the crowd.

 

“Thank you so much for your generosity. My friends and I are so overwhelmed with your feedback. Our next song is a song from my homeland, and I hope you all enjoy it.” With a little nod to the the fiddle player, the song started.

It began with a soft note of the fiddle, then the dwarf started his flute, and the song was off on a lively tune that made the very marrow of one’s bones want to dance. The gypsy dancer was the only one dancing, and Thorin couldn’t take his eyes off him if someone had turned his head.

The halfling moved his arms like water, graceful and smooth, kicking his feet out on the beat. Thorin was completely mesmerized, watching as the halfling jumped up behind the drummer on the point of the fountain wall, pretending to fall in and giving Thorin and the crowd a heart attack. The halfling smiled at his trick, and straightened up on the point. He began to kick his foot over the drummer's head, swinging to his other foot, and repeating the movement for a time. On his sixth time, the halfling again scared Thorin by pretending to fall on top of the dwarf in front of him, instead placing his hands on the big dwarf’s head, and doing a flip over him, landing solidly on his big feet with his hands thrown up to the ceiling.

An applause rang throughout the air, and Thorin was not alone in throwing a coin into the center. That’s when the halfling looked up at him, catching his eye. The halfling seemed to study Thorin with his eyes, and an appreciative smile bloomed on his face. Thorin would deny turning a little pink when the halfling had winked at him, and would deny ducking his gaze from the halfling. When Thorin peeked back up, the halfling was still looking at him while he twirled around with a bright blue scarf with little silver stars on it, and he had a huge amused grin on his face. Thorin was suddenly very thirsty, and felt really hot in the suddenly crowded area. He opted to eat his cinnamon swirly instead, looking anywhere but the halfling. The music quieted, and Thorin felt an elbow to his side. He glared at Dwalin, but his friend was staring at the dancing creature who was slowly swaying towards them, a playful smirk on his lips. Thorin didn’t know how he looked, but his eyes hurt from being so wide. To soon, the halfling was in front of him, standing right under him, and looking up with the most amazing eyes in all of Middle Earth. Thorin was suddenly pushed, and he stumbled back into the open area behind him. He glared at the halfling, but his glare vanished when the gypsy placed his hands on the wall and flipped over it, coming to stand right in front of Thorin.

The audience was going nuts, watching the two with smiles and cheers. Thorin felt overwhelmed, a feeling that was weirdly a first for him. He didn’t even feel this much anxiety when going to war, or receiving his title of Captain.

The halfling must have seen it, for his smile turned soft and pitying, making Thorin feel weak. He even avoided the gypsy’s gaze. A small hand under his chin, lifted his head and he was staring into those wonderful green eyes again. With a little grin, the gypsy grabbed his hand in his.

 

“Do you trust me?” Thorin’s ability to speak left him, his brain turning to mush, and at one of the more important times he really needed them to work. Thank fully he was able to shake his head, and the halfling’s smile grew. “Then follow my lead.” And, hand-in-hand, they began to dance.

The halfling had such fragile looking feet compared to Thorin’s big boots, that Thorin hardly took his eyes off their feet, praying to Mahal that he would not crush the toes of the gypsy.

“Look at me.” Thorin did as he was told, and had to admit that staring into bright green eyes was more comforting than watching feet, even though the hair on the halfling’s feet was adorable. They kicked and swayed with the music, and Thorin slowly began to relax, even enjoying it.

“One, two, three, kick-yes! You got it. Now, smile like you did earlier.” Thorin didn’t know he had smiled before, and didn’t know if he was smiling now, but he could feel his face heating up. The room was hotter than the forges.

The gypsy stopped Thorin in his movements and moved him to his knees. The halfling swayed around him with his scarf flowing around them both. The gypsy brought the scarf over his head, and leaned down so they were nose to nose, and Thorin felt as if he might faint.

“Keep the scarf, and by the way, you have a lovely smile.” The gypsy flipped over the wall, and danced back to the fountain, returning to sway his hips around for everyone just as the fiddle's part started. Thorin stayed on his knees, holding the scarf in his hands with a smile, before running to rejoin Dwalin on the wall, ignoring the roaring laughs of his friend.

The halfling was an exceptional dancer, and Thorin felt his smile grow at the little wave the gypsy sent his way when he twirled. The fiddle’s solo finally ended, and then the whole band was back in full force. The flute played an erie tremolo note, that strangely sounded like it didn’t fit, yet did, and Thorin watched as the gypsy stumbled in his steps, frantically searching the crowd. Thorin’s brow furrowed, and his smile fell away at the sudden forced smile the halfling was wearing, picking up the speed with the song. He began searching the crowd’s faces with Dwalin to see what could have caused the gypsy’s unease. Thorin watched as a small number of gypsies that were in the crowd began to sneak off, watching the crowd with weary eyes also.

 

“That was our last song! Thank you!” the halfling cried, bowing low with his friends. The fiddler kept their back to Thorin, and Thorin found it odd when he side stepped behind the mountain fountain, obviously avoiding someone in Thorin's area. The gypsies scurried to pick up their earnings, and the crowd quickly dispersed to busy themselves with something else. A low whistle rang in the air, and the gypsies heads all snapped up while the few other gypsies remaining in the area ran off as if their lives were at stake. Thorin shared a glance with Dwalin who looked as confused as he was.

The gypsies frantically shoved the gold into their pockets. The halfling had grabbed a small bag with a strap that had been next to the drummer, and began shoveling his gold coins into the bag. Thorin looked down the street, and noticed two guards were heading their way, shouting at them to hault. The four gypsies began to run in the opposite direction, and Thorin was torn between staying and watching or running after them. Thorin decided to critique his guards, using this opportunity to teach a lesson if something went wrong.

The halfling had just gotten his drummer on his feet, when his bag strap broke, spilling his earning’s on the stone. The gypsy shoved the drummer towards where his other friends had gone, shouting at him to run, and quickly picking up the pieces as fast as he could. The two guards stormed up to him, just as the halfling had managed to gather his last coins, shoving them into the bag as best he could. The gypsy slowly rose his head, glaring at the guards, and got to his feet to stand as tall as he could.

 

“And what do you think you’re doing, gypsy?” The taller of the two guards demanded, reaching for the bag of coin.

 

“Probably been thieving someone’s stall, I’d say,” the second guard chimed in, smirking when the halfling pulled back from them.

 

“For your information, I earned it,” the gypsy snarled, backing away from the two as they began to engage him like an animal stalking his prey. Thorin didn’t like that one bit.

 

“Yeah right,” the first guard barked at the gypsy, going around him to cut him off in the back. “Ever since the new law, you gypsies have been thieving from everyone.” Dwalin turned to Thorin.

 

“New law,” he whispered, confused. Thorin shrugged, and hopped off the wall with Dwalin.

 

“I didn’t steal from anyone, you empty headed dwarf.” Both guards bristled at the insult, but Thorin had to hand it to the halfling, he was very brave….and perfect, and handsome, and amazing.

 

“I think we better take you thieving gypsy in,” the second guard said, reaching for the halfling. Thorin and Dwalin took off towards the three.

The halfling dodged the dwarfs hands, taking the second guards helmet, and twisting it backwards so he couldn’t see, kicking him in the back and sending him flying into a nearby pillar. The first guard yelled in outrage, taking out a thick mace. It was thankfully spikeless, but could kill anyone if hit in the head, which was where the guard was aiming. Thorin barreled into the dwarf, tackling him to the ground. He heard Dwalin’s short scuffles with the other guard.

Thorin kicked the mace out of the dwarf’s hands before jumping off him, and looking all around the square for the gypsy, but he was gone.

 

“How dare you!” the guard Thorin tackled shouted at him, pointing his gloved finger at his face. “I’ll have you arrested, and make sure you never get out!”

 

“Is that so?” Thorin demanded, standing at attention with his best glare. The guard pailed when realization hit him.

 

“Prince Captain Thorin, sir!” The dwarf saluted him, clicking his boots together to stand tall. The other dwarf followed his lead, facing Dwalin with his helmet still backwards. Dwalin was smirking at the sight, till Thorin shot him a glare. With a scowl, Dwalin reluctantly removed the dwarf’s helmet. The dwarf quickly readjusted himself, and Thorin gave them a sharp nod.

 

“Now tell me, why were you in pursuit of the gypsy,” Thorin demanded. Dwalin came up behind him, his added imposing figure sending fear into the two guards.

 

“We’re just following orders, sir.” The second guard nodded in agreement with his friend, and Thorin glanced back at Dwalin in even more befuddlement.

 

“What orders?” The second guard looked at Thorin as if the words he had spoken had been elvish.

 

“The King’s newest law, sir,” guard number one said tentatively. When Thorin said nothing, the dwarf continued. “Oh that’s right, you- okay. When you left for Moria, King Thrain declared that all gypsies and homeless seen on the streets of Erebor, under suspicion of theft or otherwise, would be thrown into the prisons.” Thorin reeled his head back in shock.

 

“What?” Dwalin demanded, his tone disbelieving.

 

“There was a series of break ins in the first week after your departure, and many declared it to be gypsies or homeless since they bore the similar clothing styles,” the second guard explained, looking uneasy at the furious look Thorin had on his face. “So the King told the whole guard, that if we were to see any gypsy or homeless, we’re to lock them up immediately.”

 

 _Why would they do that? There should have been investigations, and then a few people locked up, not entire groups of people that are harmless!_ Thorin’s thoughts continued to wandered, and he thought this all a fluke. It couldn’t really be happening.

 

“Uncle! Uncle!” Thorin’s head shot up at his nephews panicked cries, watching them sprint to them from down the road. They managed to stop before running into Thorin, their faces a mixture of disbelief and sadness. Thorin clutched their shoulders as they gulped down air.

 

“What is is? What’s happened?” Fíli shook his head, his hair and braids shaking about.

 

“We...we saw this old homeless lady, and she was waiting in line to get a little something to eat at one of the stands..."

 

"We could see she didn't have much,...so we came up with a plan....a-and I went and stood behind her in line, and asked her what she would get if she could get anything at the stall..."

 

"Once he found out....ugh! I'm so out of shape!" Fíli gasped, folding over as he tried to regain his composure.

 

"Round is a shape, brother."

 

"Shut up Kíli. Anyways...I went up to them in line, and pretended that we had to leave right away because mama needed us..."

 

"And I pretended to whine, and looked at the stall with my puppy dog eyes..."

 

"Usually we ask the person if we can go in front of them-"

 

"But the nice old lady offered to let me go in front of her-"

 

"And just as we were about to order-"

 

"Two guards showed up-"

 

"And arrested her!" Both of his nephews finished, still panting slightly for air. Fíli looked at Thorin with a frown.

 

"I demanded to know the reason, and they said that it was because she was homeless, and had most likely stolen the money she had in her pocket!"

 

"And when I demanded that they release her," Kíli growled, looking furious. "They told me that they could not disobey the law, and that I would do better at learning the laws of the kingdom I live in." Kíli inhaled deeply, before shouting, "Where in Mahal's name, is there a law that states homeless old ladies get arrested?!" Thorin rested his hand on his nephew's shoulder, glancing up at the royal point.

 

"I think that a lot has changed in Erebor since we left, boys." Thorin caught a glimpse of a familiar dwarf up on the royal point, before they scurried away back into the shadows. Thorin's mood darkened considerably. "And we're going to find out why."

 

“Boys,” Dwalin asked, looking slightly worried. “What did the lady look like?” Fíli and Kíli shared a look before gazing back at Dwalin.

 

“Um, she had white hair fishtailed down her back, and was wearing some faded green dress that was all torn up at the bottom. Why?” Dwalin looked away from Fíli, his face saddened by the description.

 

“I gave her tha' coin.” Dwalin’s face broke into a scowl. “I got an old lady arrested!” That was it for Thorin. He would not have his friend and nephews being angry with themselves for helping people like they did. Thorin turned back to the two guards.

 

"Tell all of the guard, that for the rest of the day, you will not arrest a gypsy or homeless person, unless you see them breaking actual law. This new law is not valid today. All those who have a problem with my decision, can take it up with me later, but for now you will not arrest gypsies or homeless people. Am I understood?" The two guards nodded, and took off down the street in the opposite direction.

 

“Uncle,” Kíli called, his face determined. “What are we going to do?” Thorin took a step towards him, glancing down when there was a soft clinking noise under his boot. He bent down to retrieve the four pieces of gold that the halfling had obviously dropped. Looking at his nephews and friend, he clenched his hand around the coins in his palm.

 

“First, I have a meeting with the King. Second, we-”

 

“Find your pretty little dance partner.” Dwalin declared with all seriousness. Thorin choked on what he was going to say, staring at his friend in wide eyed shock. His nephews looked between the two, mischievous smiles growing on both their faces when Thorin started to stutter.

 

“Oh, uncle,” Fíli said, pretending to be scandalized by the proclamation. Thorin shook his head at his nephew. Kíli looked at him in shock, and disbelief.

 

“You danced?”

 

“Alright!” Thorin shouted, cuffing the backs of his nephews heads when they sniggered. “We have work to do.” Thorin punched Dwalin in the arm, and turned right to continue down the street.

As they passed a clothing stall, Thorin looked down to find a homeless person. He was sitting on the street, under a large cloak that hid his upper body, puffing on a pipe. Thorin gently took the coins out of his pocket that he had picked up in the square, added a few of his own, and gently placed them by the side of the homeless person, clearly indicating it was for him. He kept walking, waving off the looks he got when his nephews turned back to look at him. They might not have noticed it, but Thorin would know those feet anywhere.


	2. Afire Love

Bilbo had been a gypsy since he could remember. His whole life had been on the road, traveling with his mother and any other people to come their way. He grew up with stories about a little place called the Shire where his mother had met his father, and even planned to settle down and live in a house with the hobbit. Bilbo believed her, but kinda couldn’t help feeling a bit skeptical, knowing her only to be the wandering hobbit that she was who refused to live in anything that could be permanent.

He was twenty when his mother caught a fever and died when they were traveling with a small pack of dwarrows who were on their way to the mighty kingdom of Erebor. On her death bed she told Bilbo one last story of how she had been ostracized after his father’s death, and left with Bilbo the moment she had a chance with a group of rangers. She told him that if his hairy feet ever wandered far enough west, to the rolling green hills of the hobbits, there was a little hobbit hole waiting for him till his arrival. All he would need to do is visit some bloke named “Thain” or something.

Bilbo hadn’t cried when his mother died for that was the hobbit his mother had raised him to be. Not to cry and mourn over lives lost, but to celebrate and cherish the life they lived. He felt sad, and missed her sometimes so fiercely that it hurt to breath, but he knew she was always there with him, no matter where he went. He did occasionally feel an empty feeling when he thought of his mother, only to be filled again with his dwarrows.

The six dwarrows he and his mother had been traveling with, accepted him and made him apart of their family even before his mother had died. Bilbo loved his dwarrows, and had always thought of them all as older brothers.

Bilbo had met Nori when he was 15, and his mother and he were living in the Blue Mountains. Bilbo had almost managed to take an apple off a cart one time, when he hadn’t been able to eat for a good few weeks since his mother had taken ill, but he got caught. Nori, a native gypsy to the Blue Mountain, had been able to help Bilbo out of that almost fatal incident when the owner of the cart had demanded Bilbo's hand as compensation for his thievery. He paid the dwarf enough for the apple, and walked Bilbo back to the small alley he and his mother were occupying. Nori took one look at his mother, and picked her up in his arms, telling Bilbo to follow him. They wandered the many halls, before turning a corner and went up to a small apartment. Nori knocked, a little rhythm to it, and the door flew open as a young dwarf smiled at them. His smile fell away instantly when he took in Bilbo's mother and himself, immediately opening the door wider for them to enter.

And that's how he had met Nori's other brothers, Ori and Dori, who helped his mother get better. Nori had pulled Bilbo aside when his brothers had taken his mother, and handed him four fresh apples out of his pocket. Bilbo’s thieving classes began immediately, and he became the sneakiest thief in the Blue Mountains, surpassing his mentor who couldn’t be prouder in his pupil.

Bilbo never really used his skills, much to the disappointment of Nori, unless situations turned dire, and Nori couldn't get enough money from his job, or whatever he did to earn money. But, Bilbo always would earn and save his own money, remembering the carts he stole from, and would leave the amount of money he owed.

Bilbo and his mother stayed in the mountain with the dwarves for four years, before packing all their things, and moving to Erebor when Nori had almost gotten caught, again. But they didn't leave alone.

Nori had many friends within the mountain. Bofur was one of them.

Bofur could always bring a smile to everyone's face no matter their mood, or the situation. He was also a gypsy, but he, like Nori, had family in the Blue Mountains who owned small apartments that they could barely afford. And Bofur, like Nori, payed the bills for the small apartment, and brought food to the table when he could.

Bifur, his cousin joined him in the gypsy life, leaving his younger brother, Bombur, home to cook and clean for himself, but that worked in his favor when he became one of the top chiefs in the Blue Mountain.

Bilbo was so happy when they all decided to leave. After living in the mountains for more than four years, he was beginning to feel antsy without any change of scenery.

The trip was trying, and they didn't just lose Bilbo's mother. Dori had died in a warg attack a few weeks after Bilbo's mother died. They buried him in a small respectable resting place in a cave, which Bofur and Nori caved in to keep Dori’s body safe from those who would defile it.

Then, four months later, they made it to Dale. They were tired, heartbroken, and hungry. They found a little corner, unoccupied, and took out a few of the important things they had brought with them. Nori pulled out his fiddle, Bifur grabbed his small drums, and Bofur grabbed his flute. The three slowly began to play, small upbeat songs his mother had taught them all so they could sound like ‘culterized folk’. Bilbo did what he had always done when they played, and started to dance. They hadn’t realized they attracted a small crowd till they stopped and people clapped and some had thrown a small amount of coin. And that's how Bilbo ended up as a dancer in the town square of Erebor with his band.

Bombur had married almost immediately when they arrived in the mountain, and started up a small baked goods stand in the market, earning himself enough for a decent sized apartment to provide for his slowly growing family. He wasn’t the only one in the group to start anew in the mountain.

Ori was highly encouraged by his brother to apprentice to be the royal scribe, even though Nori hated the royals; but he wanted his brother to be a success, and showing you worked for a royal family was the best one could do, besides marry a royal of course. Nori, Bofur and Bilbo always laughed at the idea, for it was hilarious, and absurd.

Ori had taken Nori's advice, and was now apprenticing for the royal scribe, and working in the library when he had time. He lived in a cute little apartment in the high rent district, which Nori

paid for, and was supposedly dating a dwarrowdame by the name of Malin.

The two dwarves lived and were becoming apart of the mountain, which was what their family wanted for them. They wanted them to live that normal life with friends, and a home, but they didn’t want that for themselves. The four gypsies had lived most, if not their entire, lives living without an actual home, and liked their way of life compared to others. Though it was always dangerous, especially if you had family who were not gypsies like Bombur and Ori.

Gypsies with “regular” family members, went by different names in public, keeping their family name a secret incase you upset some of the wrong people, and to keep your family safe. Families had been seen as worthless, and even lesser than the gypsies and homeless, when they had a gypsy relation. A few were even murdered for it.

Some of that died down throughout the years, but gypsies still lived in fear for their loved ones. Nori had a code name, along with Bofur and Bifur, and to be told someone’s birth name was a gift more priceless than anything a gypsy could give to someone. Nori went by Jasok, Bifur went by Tharnur, and Bofur was Bodras. Bilbo had no family in the mountain besides his little group of dwarves, but no one could link them to him if they heard his name, so he remained Bilbo in public.

Bilbo, having lived in the mountain for five years now, is still getting used to not moving from place to place anymore, and living in a gypsy community beneath the mountain. The Cave of Miracles was a place that not even the royal family knew about since they believed it to be an abandoned mine shaft unfit to be mined any further. That was true, but it wasn't unfit to live in. It was thrilling, thinking that he and his people had found their own safe haven, away from the eyes and judgements of everyone in the mountain. He had just had his coming of age party with his family in Bombur’s house, when everyone was called to the town square for an announcement. As usual, the gypsies and homeless were pushed to the back of the group, but they were grateful for it this time.

 

_“By order of King Thrain the second, all gypsies and homeless in the mountain of Erebor, under suspicion of thievery or otherwise, will be arrested and imprisoned.”_

 

Bilbo, Nori, Bofur, and Bifur shared a look, before rushing out and back to the Cave of Miracles. It wasn’t till later that more people began to trickle back, but most gypsies didn’t go to announcements like that, figuring their friends would tell them instead, so most were safe from the prisons. Others weren’t as lucky.

In the next month, Bilbo lost many people he had come to call as his friends. They would try to sneak into the city to find jobs or buy necessities for their people. Some made it back, others didn’t, but the gypsies had begun to run out of options soon enough. Many ventured out to the city, just to get caught so they wouldn’t have to live in fear or hiding anymore. Some even did it for food and shelter.

Bilbo, Bifur, Bofur, and Nori made a final decision when they saw a family with a sick mother, a brand new baby, and a starving child. The father had gotten arrested trying to get his family some food, and was charged with five years for thievery. His wife would be lucky to make it to the end of this year, but Bilbo would have none of that. Bilbo and Bofur had made connections with some of their non-gypsy friends and had received their help when needed. Nori had somehow managed to get a few of the guards to skip over corners of the streets where they would be performing, and Bifur had gotten some of their gypsy friends to be lookouts for them as they danced and played.

The four gypsies had then become the providers for the gypsies and homeless of Erebor within the Cave of Miracles. Things had been going well considering the fact that hardly anymore people had been arrested, and most of the people who tossed money gave charitable amounts. Some had come up to Bilbo after performances and explained to him that they would be willing to help harbor people if they needed.

There was still the occasional arrest, but Bilbo wasn't surprised. He never expected so many gypsies to stay put for long, and even the short month that the law had been introduced was pushing on eternity for some. He was always thanking the Valar that he was able to leave and dance for people, bringing smiles and laughter to them. It was his favorite thing about his little 'job' if one could call it as such. The smiles were reward enough, but Bilbo didn't realize that only one smile in particular could make him feel like the richest hobbit in all of Middle Earth.

 

============================================================================================================================================================================

 

“Okay,” Bilbo huffed, trying to catch his breath after his song, “That was great, guys, but we still have a crowd, and a crowd means more money, and more money means-”

 

“Yeah, we know,” Bifur chuckled. “More money means more people we can help.”

 

“Save your breath for dancing,” Bofur scolded, flicking spit off his flute in disgust. Nori bowed at the crowd again, enjoying the attention.

 

“How ‘bout we do that one song yer mum first taught us?” Nori supplied, smirking at one of the lady dwarfs who threw a few more coins. Bilbo nodded in agreement along with the others and they all got ready to play.

 

“Thank you so much for your generosity,” Bilbo shouted to the crowd with a smile. “My friends and I are so overwhelmed with your feedback. Our next song is a song from my homeland, and I hope you all enjoy it.” With a little nod to Nori, the song started.

Bilbo loved this song, remembering the first time they had gotten the entire song memorized and played it for his mother. Just for fun he decided to run and jump up on the fountain wall. Watching the expressions as he jumped up behind Bifur on the point of the fountain wall, pretending to fall in was hilarious. He smiled at them all, and straightened up on the point, enjoying the wave of relief that flowed over the crowd.

He began to kick his foot over the drummer's head, swinging to his other foot, and repeating the movement for a time. On his sixth time, Bilbo pretended to fall on top of Bifur, instead placing his hands on the big dwarf’s head, and doing a flip over him. Bilbo landed solidly on his big feet with his hands thrown up to the ceiling.

An applause rang throughout the air, and many threw a coin into the center near his feat. Bilbo always made it his goal to remember a face in the crowd during every song, and he glanced up and to the very back. Bilbo saw the most stunning creature to ever walk on two legs.

The dwarf looked as thick and as sturdy as one of the big trees in Mirkwood. His shoulders were back and he stood with an authority that was so attractive Bilbo couldn’t help the small smile he felt blooming on his face.

The dwarf had black hair that was long and well kept. It was pulled to the back in a ponytail, and his beard was as full as Bombur’s but in such a different way, that Bilbo’s fingers itched to run through it and find out for himself if the dwarf’s beard was indeed as soft as it looked.

He wore a fitting navy blue tunic that billowed about, and Bilbo hated it for concealing so much of the dwarf. But it wasn’t the dwarf’s hair, or clothes, or even the obvious muscle that made Bilbo’s heart leap in his chest, though they did help.

The small grin displayed on his face, as if he was tentative to show it, or even unaware that he had it on display, was filled with such admiration, such fondness, that Bilbo felt something stir inside of him. The look wasn’t like the few pervs that Bilbo could occasionally draw in. This was endearing and Bilbo didn’t mind it at all. In fact, it was quite the opposite. He rather liked the look he received.

Bilbo’s and the estrange dwarf’s eyes met, and he saw the dwarf’s cheeks glow a bright red even under his beard and the dwarf casted his eyes away. Bilbo began twirling around, eyes still on the adorable dwarf who glanced back up timidly.

Bilbo grinned at the dwarf, and watched in amusement as he began to eat a cinnamon bun, desperately trying to look anywhere but at Bilbo, and the very act was so amusing to Bilbo he couldn’t sit by and not do anything.

Ever the flirt Bilbo proudly wasn’t, he did know a thing or two thanks to his very flirty older brothers. Bilbo began to sway towards the dwarf, and say his friend elbow him in the side. The handsome dwarf glared at his friend, but turned to Bilbo with a wide eyed look. His mouth was hanging open and he looked as if he had just been slapped.

Bilbo got right in front of him, and with a smile shoved the dwarf back to the open space behind him. The dwarf glared at him, but Bilbo didn’t mind as he flipped over the small wall that the dwarf had been standing on. He landed right in front of the dwarf, smirking at the him while the crowd was going nuts.

The dwarf began looking very uncomfortable under all the gazes from the audience, and Bilbo suddenly felt guilty. He didn’t even think about the dwarf’s feelings, only wanting to be closer to him and see how real he was. Bilbo tried to flash him a reassuring smile, but the dwarf turned away in shame, and Bilbo was having none of that. He gently placed his hand under his chin, reveling in the softness of the dwarf’s magnificent beard.

The dwarf’s eyes were a piercing blue that reminded Bilbo of the never ending sea that he had loved as a child. With a grin, Bilbo grabbed his hand.

“Do you trust me?” The dwarf just gawked at him till his head slowly tilted forward, and Bilbo took it as a nod. “Then follow my lead.” And, hand-in-hand, they began to dance.

The poor dwarf kept his eyes downcast, watching their feet like most people Bilbo would dance with, but this was so much more endearing to Bilbo’s mind. Like he really cared whether he stepped on his feet or not, and Bilbo shook his head fondly.

“Look at me.” The dwarf did as he was told. “Okay, so, one, step, two, step, three, step, then kick. Come on, let’s go again.” They kicked and swayed with the music, and the dwarf slowly began to relax, but his face was still pinched with nerves.

“One, two, three, kick-yes! You got it. Now,” Bilbo smirked, “smile like you did earlier.” The dwarf’s smile was more magnificent than the first time Bilbo had seen it. Bilbo could hear the music and knew his time was running short with the beautiful dwarf for this song.

_Maybe I can have another partner song, and we can dance again!_

Bilbo moved him to his knees, never admitting to anyone that he rather enjoyed the dwarf on his knees in front of him. He began to sway around him with his scarf flowing around them both, bringing the scarf over the thick black locks of beautiful hair. Bilbo lent down in front of him till their noses almost brushed.

“Keep the scarf,” Bilbo breathed, smiling at the dwarf, which reminded him. “And by the way, you have a lovely smile.” Bilbo ran off to the edge, flipping over the wall and running back through the crowd to the center where he danced.

He glanced up and saw the grinning dwarf rejoin his friend on the wall, standing tall and proud.

Bilbo continued to dance, eyes never leaving the dwarf when they could. Nori’s solo finally ended, and then the whole band was back in full force, until he heard it. Bofur played an erie tremolo note, that was the warning signal for possible danger around them. Bilbo smoothed his features, and continued to play, ending the song with his arms in the air.

“That was our last song! Thank you!” Bilbo and his friends bowed as one, then hurried to pick up their earnings while the crowd went about their separate ways.

A low whistle rang in the air, and the Bilbo’s head snapped in the air, searching for the guard who wasn’t on Nori’s payroll.

Bilbo ran back and began throwing the gold into a little pack he had when he began to hear the shouts from the guards not to far away.

 

“Run!” Bofur shouted, shoving Nori onto his feat and making a mad dash for the alley. Bilbo began running after them, but noticed Bifur still picking up his last bits of coin. He rushed to help him, throwing more coins into his purse, and pushing Bifur to his feat.

 

“Run! Tharnur run!” Bilbo shouted, pushing him ahead towards Nori and Bofur. Nori glanced back at them, his eyes widening in panic.

 

“Bilbo! Tharnur! Move. Your. Asses!” Bilbo suddenly felt the weight of his parcel loosen, and heard the terrifying clinking of coins hitting the stone floor.

 

“Dammit!” Bilbo swore under his breath, stopping to pick up the tiny pieces.

 

“Bilbo! Leave it!” Bofur shouted, running back to help him. The guards were nearing them quickly, and Bilbo couldn’t risk getting them both in jail. Bofur was shoving the coin into his shirt pockets, eyeing the guards behind Bilbo. Bilbo shoved his hands out of the way.

 

“Bodras, run. I got this. Run!” Bofur eyed him carefully, before giving a tight nod, and smacking his shoulder.

 

“You better be back before the meeting tonight, or Jasok is gonna kill me!” Bofur shouted back to him as he ran after Nori, dragging the thief away with him so they wouldn’t get caught. Bilbo made sure the top of his satchel was securely closed, shoving the coin in.

 

_Keep a steady, level head. You can get out of this. This isn’t your first time in trouble with the guard._ Bilbo slowly rose his head, standing tall before the guards who towered over him like he was a small bug meant to be crushed.

 

“And what do you think you’re doing, gypsy?” The taller of the two guards demanded, reaching for Bilbo’s bag of coin.

 

“Probably been thieving someone’s stall, I’d say,” the second guard chimed in, smirking when Bilbo scowled and pulled away from them.

 

“For your information, I earned it,” Bilbo snarled, backing away from the two as they began to engage him like an animal stalking his prey.

 

“Yeah right,” the first guard barked at him, going around to cut him off in the back. _There goes plan A._ “Ever since the new law, you gypsies have been thieving from everyone.” Bilbo scowled at the accusation.

 

“I didn’t steal from anyone, you empty headed dwarf.” Both guards bristled at the insult, and Bilbo felt a little proud for buying himself some more time to figure out plan B.

 

“I think we better take you thieving gypsy in,” the second guard said, reaching for Bilbo, but Bilbo was quicker. He dodged the dwarf’s meaty hands, and grabbed the guards helmet and gave it a proper twist. Bilbo ran around the guard and gave him a swift kick in the back for good measure, amazingly sending him into one of the massive stone pillars nearby. Bilbo felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he couldn’t help the smile he felt when he saw the dwarf crash to the ground in a daze, his helmet still on backwards. But he forgot about the other guard.

The first guard yelled in outrage, taking out a thick mace that sent fear through Bilbo and striking him to the core. Just as the guard raised his arm, another dwarf barreled into him, taking him down to the ground. It had been the dwarf he had danced with, but Bilbo didn’t have time for apologies or thank you’s. It was his time to escape, and escape he did. He sent a quick pray to whoever was listening that they would make sure nothing happened to the kind dwarf as Bilbo made his way down the market. He came to a stop at a clothing booth, one that had helped Bilbo in jams before. The vender smiled at him.

 

“Bilbo!” Sif greeted, taking in the way that he was panting and looking around them everywhere in panic. Without question she threw him a cloak and pointed to a corner that would be the most private place he could hid at the moment.

Bilbo stayed there, under his cloak for what seemed like hours. Just as he was about to come out, foot steps led up to his feet, and he felt utter terror shoot through him all the way down to his exposed feet. But instead of a threat, or warning, or attempted arrest, the dwarf placed a stack of coins by his foot and hurried off back down the road. Bilbo raised his hood and stared after the dwarf, who was the same beautiful one he had danced with. He sent a prayer of gratitude to his maker, and watch the dwarf leave with three others. He was grateful to at least see him unharmed, but knew that would be the last time he could see him.

With a sigh, he walked back up to Sif. She had long hair that flowed around her shoulders freely like a river, and a light dusting of hair on her cheeks and chin. She was one of the prettiest woman Bilbo had ever seen, and had eyes that looked like melted chocolate. Sif liked to wear her long flowing dresses that were plain and simple, with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

She eyed the dwarf skeptically, glancing back down at Bilbo. Bilbo tugged the hood back over his head, wary of the eyes around him.

“Who was that?” Sif demanded, taking Bilbo’s list and bag of coin. “He looks familiar.” She began to gather the supplies needed; baby clothes, new cloaks, shirts, and pants, and a few pairs of socks.

Bilbo shrugged at her, standing on his tippy toes to try and spot the dwarf, but he was gone.

 

“Some guy,” Bilbo said, vaguely. “I danced with him earlier today.” Sif giggled at him.

 

“I bet that was fun,” she said with a wink. Bilbo huffed, shaking his head with a smile.

 

“Sure, if you call dancing with some stranger fun.” Sif giggled, reaching up above for a purple tunic that was made for a small child.

 

“Though I don’t swing that way,” she stated with a huff as she jumped back down onto the floor of her stall, “I can appreciate a pretty face, and honey, that face was mighty fine.” Bilbo raised an eyebrow at her.

 

“Well, maybe you should have been the one to dance with him.”

 

“Like I said,” Sif singsonged, turning back to a corner. “I don’t swing that way, and you know Hilath wouldn’t like that. She gets jealous too easily.” Bilbo glanced around the stall.

 

“Where is Hilath?” Sif sighed, throwing the children’s items into a massive bag.

 

“Well, speaking of the whole jealousy thing, she and I went out last night to the Fire Dragon for our anniversary, and these two rangers began to talk to me when I went to grab our drinks.” Bilbo winced for the rangers, thinking of the rath of Hilath.

“Oh no, that wasn't the problem,” Sif warned, handing one of the huge bags to Bilbo. “Tiligan and Jepid were very kind. It was this other guy. He came up to our table when I went back with our drinks, and this guy kisses me!” Bilbo gaped at her.

 

“What?”

 

“Yeah!” Sif nodded, eyes wide in shock. “I didn’t understand what was happening, until he was ripped off me, and next thing I knew, Hilath was beating the crap out of this guy, and the two rangers I met came over to help.” Bilbo stepped up closer when he saw a guard walk past him, lowering his head so they wouldn’t see him.

“We almost got kicked out, but the owner just grabbed the brute and tossed him out. I was able to distract Hilath after that, but she said she had to go out and grab something, and that was an hour ago.” Sif sighed resigned. “And as much as I would like to think my wife is out getting me something for our anniversary, I know she found out where that dwarf lives-slash-works-slash-is and is after him. I just hope she doesn't get put on trial again for assault.” She passed another bag over to Bilbo who placed it next to the first.

 

“Well,” Bilbo said after a while, “It wouldn't be the worst thing she’s done.” Sif laughed loudly, and nodded, passing the final bag over to him.

 

“To true, my friend. To true.” She grabbed his hand in hers and gave him a pleading look. “Please be more careful. I know you’re all planning on playing and dancing tomorrow at the parade, but just please be careful.” Bilbo squeezed her hand back reassuringly.

 

“Don’t worry, Sif. No guard can jail this gypsy.” She nodded reluctantly, and let go his hand.

 

“I hope you’re right. Say hi to everyone for me.” Bilbo waved goodbye, shouldering the three packs of clothes and walking away from the stall. He went down the alleys, slipping down to the tunnel that led to the Cave of Miracles. He found the secret passage into the cave easily enough, and slipped in, hearing an enraged conversation up ahead. He could make out three figures by the single torch that remained lit way back towards the third secret entrance.

 

“Jasok, calm down! He said he would be back by the meeting,” Bofur argued. Bilbo could picture Nori pacing back and forth, twirling a small knife between his fingers. Nori growled in frustration.

 

“It’s almost time for the meeting, Bodras! I shouldn’t have left him.” Bifur scoffed at Nori.

 

“It’s not your fault that he’s not here right now.” Nori whirled around on him with a scowl. “Okay? We all left. And besides, Bilbo can handle himself. We have to trust him in that.” Nori sighed, the anger leaving him instantly.

 

“It’s not that I don’t trust him to take care of himself, it’s just that-”

 

“You worry too much,” Bilbo spoke up with a smile. The three dwarves twirled around to him, weapons at the ready. Wen they realized it was him, they tackled him to the ground in cheers.

 

“Bilbo! Oh, don’t do that to me again!” Nori cried, hugging him tightly to his chest. Bilbo chuckled.

 

“Again, you worry too much.” He patted the bags on his back affectionately. “Besides, I decided to go ahead and get my list of stuff.” Bofur nodded in approval, taking a bag for himself.

 

“People have been needing these, so that’s a good thing. We can pass them out at the meeting.” Bilbo nodded handing Bifur a bag.

 

“So I got a question,” Bilbo began looking at the three. “What happened out there?” Bofur turned to Nori who made a small noise of understanding.

 

“That bald dwarf in the green, next to the other dwarf you danced with, he's the lieutenant of the First Guard. He’s been trying to nab me for anything he could think of for years since I nabbed this pretty locket here off him.” Nori showed off his necklace that was gold and mithril intertwined as the chain, and a small locket about the size of a coin made of tiny little diamonds and other jewels to create a rose. On the inside was the words **_Love Leaves a Memory That No One Can_** _ **Steal**_

Bilbo nodded, not that surprised he was on one of the head men in the guard's most wanted list. He glanced up at Bifur who was smirking at him with a smug expression. Bilbo blinked at him.

 

“What?” Bifur shrugged, his expression never falling.

 

“Oh, nothing. Just remembered, you did dance with someone, didn’t you?” Bilbo felt the sudden intense gazes of his family, and cleared his throat.

 

“So?” Bofur grinned, tilting his head to the side.

 

“I don’t remember that song being made for _two_ people dancing,” he stated, turning to Nori and his cousin. “Do you guys?” Bifur and Nori shook their heads firmly.

 

“Nope.”

 

“I always thought it was for one.” Bilbo sniffed, turning away from his family to look at the flickering torch.

 

“Well, I improvised.” Bofur nodded along good naturedly.

 

“Yeah, ‘improvised’.”

 

“Yep, that’s what I did.”

 

“Well, of course that’s what you did,” Nori defended him, patting his shoulder with a smug look. Bilbo huffed, shrugging Nori’s hand off his shoulder.

 

“I don’t get what you guys are getting at, but knock it off. We have a meeting to get to, and the parade tomorrow that we have to start preparing for, and I most likely will never see that dwarf again, if I’m lucky, which I’m not. So, can we just go to the meeting now, and forget about the strange dwarf that you guys are crazy about?” Nori, Bofur, and Bifur shared a look, but thank fully dropped it.

 

“Yeah, no problem Bilbo.” Bifur began walking to the third entrance, leading the way. “But there’s not point in trying to make it to the meeting on time. We’re always late thanks to Bofur.” Bofur huffed in irritation.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“Okay, you have it.” Bofur smacked the back of Bifur’s bag of clothes.

 

“We’ve only been late because of me a few times!” Bilbo laughed as they continued down the hall, feeling a sense of calm sweep over him at the bickering.

 

“If you call every single meeting there has ever been a few times, then yes, we’ve only been late a few times,” Nori chimed in, laughing when Bofur jabbed him in the side.

 

“That one time was because one of those little blighters stole my hat,” Bofur reminded them, referring to his lovely niece and nephews, and sending his cousin into a laughing heap.

 

“That’s right!” he howled. “You were so scared, you were looking everywhere, and then Monur told you to check in your pants, and you ripped them off trying to find it!” Everyone was laughing by then, remembering the incident quite well. Bofur chuckled along with them good naturedly.

 

“Just you demons wait,” Bofur warned, poking a finger into the air. “One of these days, I’m gonna marry someone-”

 

“Mahal save them,” Nori whispered to Bilbo, making him snicker.

 

“-and I will become a powerful dwarf, and I’m going to demand that you walk around Erebor with your pants off.” Bifur laughed, turning to place a hand on his younger cousin’s shoulder.

 

“Good thing no one listens to you, eh, cousin?” They all laughed as Bofur made a little displeased noise.

 

“Just for that,” Bofur declared, “You’ll have to walk around Dale as well.”  Bifur chuckled, shrugging it off.

 

“There’s a sad difference between you makin’  me walk around Erebor and Dale with my pants off, and then you ripping your pants off because you thought you lost your hat.” Bofur smirked.

 

“Oh? Do tell me, cousin, what is this difference?” Bofur asked in a mock tone they used when imitating the royals. Bifur walked ahead of them all, swinging the bag onto his shoulder.

  
“People will _want_ to see me without my pants off.”


End file.
